


The Stress of Surveillance

by Sherlaufeyson



Category: The Sweeney (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, George Carter POV, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlaufeyson/pseuds/Sherlaufeyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DI Jack Regan is not having the best of days. He's just found out that his home has been under surveillance, he caused a car crash and narrowly avoided being blown up by a bomb meant for someone else. His partner DS George Carter, as ever, is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stress of Surveillance

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoiler for Hit and Run (S02E05)
> 
> This was prompted from Carter's line in Visiting Fireman (S03E03) "We're being studied through the window". When I first started watching The Sweeney, I looked online for fic and found there none. So here is my paltry offering to the fandom.

I notice a housewife peering through her curtains at us. What with everything that’s happened to the Guv lately, I’m suspicious of everyone. “We’re being studied through the window.” 

The Guv looks at me oddly, and the air between us is suddenly charged. “Well, why don’t we give ‘em a show?” I don’t have time to respond before the Guv has dragged me several feet over to an alley hidden between the brick side of a block of flats and a seven foot wooden fence painted a garish green. 

I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, or Regan’s finally gone off the deep end, what with the bomb and secret surveillance, but suddenly I’m tripping over my own feet as I’m pressed back against the brick wall. Regan’s body collides with mine and before I can come up with a reply, his thigh is pressed up between my own and his mouth has attached itself to my neck in that place that hasn’t been touched since Alison was murdered. But this isn’t the time to think about her. Or maybe it is exactly the time I should be considering her, but I don’t want to. Regan’s marking my neck with bites and kissing up my jaw line till he’s hot on my mouth, tasting of cheap beer and cigarettes. 

I resist the temptation to lick my lips, and without an opening he moves backwards slightly, planning his next method of attack.

“Guv, we can’t...” I mumble, but he just shushes me and I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. Green and wild with passion or madness, I can’t be sure. But there’s a fair amount of lust there, and it’s been ages, and if I’m honest with myself the thoughts have always been there in the back of my mind. 

He moves back towards me and I know what to do if he attacks me again, those years of boxing training will allow me to manoeuvre out of his grasp without causing injury, but as ever, he’s unpredictable. Leaning in slowly, moist lips kissing softly at the corner of my mouth, I’m undone. I hear a noise sounding suspiciously like a moan and I’m sure it didn’t come from me, but already I’m glad for the cold wall at my back that I can lean against when my legs turn to jelly. His right hand moves up to card his fingers through my hair, while his left clutches at my arm desperately. My hands don’t know what to do, clenching at my side, but my mouth’s responding to him. 

How long the kiss has gone on for, minutes? Seconds? I have no idea, but I hear a door slam and it jolts me out of...whatever this is. My hands grasp his shoulders and I push him gently but firmly away. My head drops forward as I try to catch my breath and I feel his forehead press against mine. 

I feel his left hand relinquish its grip on my arm. There will be bruises. Again I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. The fire is gone. There’s vulnerability there, slight fear and a distinct lost look that’s all wrong on him. I give his shoulders a squeeze. I want to reach out to him, kiss him again, or at least pull him into my arms, but I guess I am afraid. That it was a one-time thing. That he’ll mistake it for mocking, or even worse, pity. I settle for an awkward shoulder pat and he snorts. At least that’s more like the old Jack. 

“So if the Turks are watching your place, you’d better stay at mine tonight.”

He’s pulled slightly further away from me and I want nothing more than to drag him back, but I resist. He’s looking more like himself, minus the kiss-reddened lips. His tie’s askew and his hair looks like it could comfortably house a small family of sparrows, but that’s as usual. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, cheers George. We’ll pick up a couple of crates on the way.” Most of the vulnerability is gone, though he still says it like a question, uncertain whether I might reject him. The corners of my mouth twitch upwards in a half-smile and I see the relief bleed into his eyes. I turn towards the car, slinging an arm across his shoulders. 

“Right you are, Guv.”


End file.
